Displaced Stars
by Sandshrew777
Summary: Finn needs to relax after Sectionals. Kurt tags along.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I can't believe how long this show is on break, so if I owned any part of it I'd be rebelling.**

**Author's Note: Please review. This takes place during/directly after the episode "Sectionals".**

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"The stars," he answered. His eyes raked up Kurt's surprised face and into the night sky above them. Kurt slowly followed suit.

It was then that Kurt stopped trying to force a conversation and just sat there, which probably couldn't have been easy for him. Kurt seemed like he was the kind of guy who didn't just sit there and let things happen. Kurt seemed like a go-getter. And he was going to get far, far away from this place once he graduated. And graduation wasn't even a matter of "if" for Kurt--it was a "when", it was definite because Kurt was smart. He used big words and knew what each of them meant. He finished off math homework during downtime in Glee, when Mr. Schue was busy helping Tina find a note or Puck the right tempo.

It was funny--_ironic_, he reminded himself, that's the word Kurt would use--that his brain kept coming back to Puck. Quinn. The baby. That's why he'd asked Kurt to DD, to drive him out to his favorite field in the middle of nowhere so he could get shit-faced and not think anymore. It wasn't working very well.

Kurt, for his part, was trying really hard. Tried to get him talking about their big win at Sectionals. About the song Rachel had suggested they sing on the ride home that he'd missed driving Mr. Schue's ride back to McKinley. About football, even--which Kurt found "ruthlessly boring," he'd said once. He'd tried, hard. Finn admired that.

Plus, Kurt had brought the beer--or, rather, more beer, since Finn already had some from his and Puck's secret stash underneath the back porch stairs--and that made Kurt a very good friend. Weird, yeah. And gay. But still a good guy.

"I see what you mean," Kurt said at last.

"About what?" Finn asked. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Are you blacking out already? Lightweight," he muttered, pursing his lips together near the end. Somehow Finn knew that meant Kurt was joking.

"The stars. I asked why you come out here and that's what you said. The stars. They're really...bright," Kurt finished, smiling crinkledly. Finn smiled too and took a long swig. He wasn't nearly drunk enough and that was a damn shame.

But Kurt was right; the stars were really super bright and that was kinda weird. He liked to come out here and lay in his truck bed and just think--which really didn't work tonight because he didn't want to think, he wanted to get drunk.

And here he was, not drinking half as much as he thought he was going to, thinking far more than he wanted, and talking with a tiny little gay boy about nothing and everything at once.

A gay boy, who, to Finn's amazement, did indeed know how to drive a stick, was quite at home maneuvering Finn's huge truck, and texted back a "sure, be there in 5" immediately when Finn asked if he would be his designated driver. It was all pretty weird, but also kinda cool.

"Quinn's staying with us for as long as she needs to. Though I haven't told Mom yet about...things," Finn blurted.

Kurt, wide-eyed, turned from the stars to him.

"That's...chivalric of you," he said.

"Is that a good thing?" Finn asked. Kurt laughed a little, rolled his eyes.

"Yes. You know knights in shining armor and all that?" he asked. Finn nodded. "Being chivalric means to be like a knight--noble, generous, really good with a sword..." he trailed off, winking.

To which Finn found himself responding, "I'm not so sure about that last bit. I mean, the last time I tried to cut something with a sharp knife, my uncle Darwin ended up in the hospital getting his thumb reattached."

Kurt snorted a sharp bit of laughter again, shaking his head. "It's a metaphor, Finn," he said. "You know...sword, penis?"

Oh. _Oh_.

The image of the mailman flashed in his head. No, he was very decidedly _not_ a good swordsman, then.

"Oh. I get it," he said. Then he drained the rest of his bottle, opened another, looked up at the stars and tried to remember his constellations. He couldn't, of course. He never did. But he tried.

"How d'you know that your mom made lasagna on Friday nights?" he asked after a bit.

Kurt turned away from the stars again, more wide-eyed than before.

"Someone's sure hitting the hard stuff tonight," he said, and for once--_for once!_--Finn knew exactly what he was saying and also what he wasn't saying. He rewarded himself with a long swallow of beer.

"I guess..." Kurt started. "I guess it's because Dad tells me that stuff all the time when he thinks he isn't doing well enough. You know, like when he burns macaroni and cheese--don't ask me how--or buys me the wrong moisturizer. Which happens a lot less often than you'd think, actually," he mused.

Finn laughed a little and Kurt turned his focus from his cupped hands back to Finn again with a little smile.

"How'd you know Mom made lasagna every Friday?" he asked. Finn shrugged.

"You told me, remember? Just before we went down to pick out my outfit for...the dinner with the Fabrays," he answered. He took an even longer swallow of beer this time to try and knock the lump out of his throat.

"And you remembered?" Kurt asked. "Wow."

They both turned to the stars, which were really too damn bright. He came out here because it was tough seeing them in the city--although calling Lima a city was a bit of a stretch. Usually the stars weren't so bright, though. Tonight they'd decided to change it up, and Finn wasn't pleased about it.

But he wasn't annoyed, necessarily--and the honesty of that thought made him shift on the thicket of blankets he and Kurt had made in the bed of his truck. It was almost kinda nice for them to be so bright because that was making him a little sleepy--the booze didn't hurt, either--and that meant he'd be able to sleep and not have to think anymore. It was weird. But good.

"It's...never going to be the same. Not really. You know that, right?" Kurt asked. Finn didn't have to look away from the stars to know that Kurt's shoulders were hunched a little, that he was rubbing his right thumb in circles on the nail of his forefinger. Kurt always did that when he got nervous--that and the hair-swiping thing.

"Yeah. I know," Finn answered, swishing what was left in his bottle around and around, still staring up at the sky. Kurt nodded and looked up, too.

"When I was little, my dad and I always came out here," Finn said. "Guys' night out, he'd call it. Every Friday after the football game. And he always pointed out all the constellations and their names and told me how to remember them and stuff. I'd always fall asleep before he got past the first few."

"Better off than me," Kurt scoffed, smiling crookedly. "I never did learn them. D'you remember any?"

Finn sat for a moment, scanning them, then suddenly struck by it, he pointed up at three stars nearly in a row. One was bunched off to the side in the middle, as if no longer part of it, no longer part of that special group.

"Right there," he said. "Orion's belt."

Kurt's head bobbed for a bit and Finn held his arm steady so Kurt could follow it right to where he was pointing. When he got it, he smiled.

"Figures you'd show me one that's related to fashion," he said.

Finn laughed. "Would ya wear it?" he joked.

"Maybe. Although that middle one'd be hanging pretty low over my crotch, and I'm not sure I want a giant sparkly spot over my penis, thank you very much," Kurt said.

Finn laughed, hard. Kurt giggled.

When their laughter wound down, Finn swigged the rest of his beer and eyed the damage: seven bottles in two hours. Four of his stash and three of what Kurt had brought--which was pretty damned good, and what he'd been drinking for the past two bottles. But that still left quite a bit of alcohol left over and he felt like this night was done.

"I think we should do this again next week. You can get drunk and I'll drive you home," Finn said.

Kurt laughed a little. His shoulders were hunched, his thumb was circling like mad, and he swiped at his hair with shaky fingers.

"Are you...drunk now?" he asked.

"Yeah. Or pretty near," Finn answered. "It'll be hell getting out of here. I'll try not to fall on you," he promised.

Kurt stared at his hands, which waited, cupped, in his lap.

"D'you think you'll remember any of this in the morning?" he asked.

"Probably. Why?" Finn asked.

Kurt's shoulders hunched a bit more.

"It's just...everything's exactly how I thought it would be, with Quinn and you and me...it's the perfect time and I...can't do it. Not tonight. Not...like this. And maybe...maybe not ever," Kurt whispered.

Finn blinked. Sometimes Kurt did things like that--talked about stuff Finn had no idea about. Usually it was musicals or eyeliner or something. So he just shrugged it off. If it was important, Kurt would explain. Or he'd talk about it next week when he was drunk--which was bound to be pretty damn cool to see. He'd never seen Kurt drunk; at least, not that he could remember. And he never thought someone like Kurt--smart, confident, crazy good singer--would need a reason not to think. At least, not until he got to know him.

"You know what?" Finn asked. Kurt glanced over at him. Finn smiled. "You deserve a thank-you for this. I know it's pretty boring out here. Hell, I fell asleep my first few times," he joked.

"You don't really need to--" Kurt got out before his eyes widened and he realized what Finn was doing: kissing him. Just lightly, just on the cheek, just a little bit of warm wetness in the night.

"Yeah. I did," Finn said. "Now let's go home. I'll even let you blare that _Legally Blonde_ stuff you like so much so I don't fall asleep on you."

Kurt grinned, rolled his eyes, and began cleaning up. Finn watched the molars in Kurt's mouth while he talked--about something, probably defending his precious musical, Finn wasn't really listening. Kurt's smile was so wide that his molars stood out in his mouth, gleaming bright. Really bright. Like the stars, even. Like his smile came from the stars.

But that was a dumb thing to think, because stars couldn't give nice guys like Kurt beautiful smiles. That was impossible. Wasn't it?

Finn took one last look at the stars, at all that brightness in one big space, then felt the world shake as something slid out from underneath him. He hit the truck bed, hard, and looked over at a sheepish Kurt folding a plaid blanket that they had both been sitting on.

"I think you broke my butt," Finn said.

Kurt giggled. Finn laughed. The stars shone on.

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**Author's Note: Please review, or I'll steal Kurt's skin care products. I'm totally heartless. **


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